


What You Need

by Michaelmeansmell (orphan_account)



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Dissociation, Evan pining for Zoe, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jared Kleinman Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overdosing, Pining, Skype, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Michaelmeansmell
Summary: Evans shoulders were tense, his hands hanging around his center, he looked ready to block anything being thrown at him, he walked quickly, but not with long strides. He was blatantly nervous, almost always shaking, the way he spoke was just as nervous as anything in the world. He got caught up on words often, which wasn’t seen as the most attractive thing, and would use his arms and hands to express so much more than his words could. He would get excited and people would look at him weird. He didn’t fit into the norms of staying mostly still while talking, or of talking slower. His words got jumbled, they skipped together, sometimes people had to have him repeat something because they just couldn’t understand him with how fast he was speaking. That was how he was, though, he couldn’t help it. He would change it if he could.





	1. Latch

**Author's Note:**

> This is, basically, part of a thing where I wote 38 words/phrases/song titles/lyrics whatever short thing and randomized them and then decided 'Hey. I'm gonna write a coherent story with them in this order.' 
> 
> I'll be writing new parts every few days, no specific dates set as of right now.
> 
> Special thanks to Lav for basically reading through this to make sure I didn't fuck anything up too bad.

Hold onto something.

Hold onto something, and never let it go, because if you do then you might die, then you might not be able to keep going, you need that to survive. How can you survive without it? Find something to latch onto, someone, an object, a place. Anything. Never stop thinking about it. Always go back to it. Wonder how you can incorporate it into anything you are doing. If you are without it for too long then break down, cry, start talking, don’t stop talking. Complain about everything going wrong. Apologize about talking so much. Keep talking. Say you hate yourself. Realize you want to die. 

Get it back. Be okay. 

As, honestly, pathetic as it was, that’s how Evan Hansen thought. He thought in terms of latching onto something, and never losing it. Hoping he wouldn’t, anyways. It was how he dealt with getting through the day. He had something to focus on, so he didn’t mull on the things that made him more anxious, and he didn’t have to think about other things going on his life. 

So here he was, in the hallway at school, without something to latch onto. Without an obsession. He had lost that spark with the last person that he had it with. Zoe. He didn’t know why, or maybe he did but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Zoe Murphy had caught his attention in eighth grade when he first saw her. Really saw her. He had passed her in the hall quite a few times but, at some point, it felt different. She was a year younger than him, yes, but more mature than a lot of the kids his age. She was pretty and she was nice, as basic as that sounds as far as compliments go. She was really good in school, at least from what Evan had seen of her playing in jazz band, but that might have just been her natural talent for music, which she definitely had. He doesn’t know. But he does know that she was wonderful.

Then something changed. 

She wasn’t wonderful anymore.

She was, that was a lie, she was, but not in the way that Evan had thought before. Every time he thought about her he just second guessed that love that he had claimed, he wondered if it was real, and then he pushed the obsession out. He didn’t want to worry so much about someone who had stopped him from worrying.

So, she stopped being perfect to his mind. 

And Evan didn’t know what to do. He would find something else, but coming to terms with falling out of love with someone he’d never even talked to was weird enough. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay attached, but he couldn’t help it when his mind wandered to other things. When he wasn’t thinking about her every hour, every day at least. Every week. Suddenly, she was just an old memory. The love that he had grown for her, or maybe it was just a co-dependency where he had never even spoken to her, had burnt out. Maybe he had lit a candle that didn’t have enough wick to sustain itself.

\- - -

Evans shoulders were tense, his hands hanging around his center, he looked ready to block anything being thrown at him, he walked quickly, but not with long strides. He was blatantly nervous, almost always shaking, the way he spoke was just as nervous as anything in the world. He got caught up on words often, which wasn’t seen as the most attractive thing, and would use his arms and hands to express so much more than his words could. He would get excited and people would look at him weird. He didn’t fit into the norms of staying mostly still while talking, or of talking slower. His words got jumbled, they skipped together, sometimes people had to have him repeat something because they just couldn’t understand him with how fast he was speaking. That was how he was, though, he couldn’t help it. He would change it if he could, but even working on it with his therapist wasn’t doing much good, because he was still constantly nervous and the way he spoke reflected that. So, really, that’s what he needed to work on. 

His shoes made no noise against the tile while he walked down the hallway of his high school, and no one would be able to tell if they did. Other students were yelling and talking and mumbling to themselves. There were a few that stood, alone, not doing anything much except for preparing themselves for their next class. Evan was, as always, one of those students. Unless Jared actually had the energy to get out of bed that day. 

“Are you done staring at the ground?” 

Today was one of the days he had that energy, apparently. 

“What?” Evan looked up at Jared, who had such a relaxed stance. He leaned back on his heels, and only his thumbs were sticking out of his pockets. Relaxed to Evan, but tryhard to someone who understood body language. He shifted his weight, and brought his shoulders up, in a way that definitely mirrored how Evan stood. 

“Oh,” Evan mumbled. “I wasn’t staring at the ground, really, I was thinking.” He corrected Jared, even though he was staring at the ground, just he hadn’t noticed. 

“No, I am pretty sure that you can do both. You had this weird blank stare at the wonderful hasn’t-been-cleaned-in-at-least-three-years floor, and it was creepy. Like you were thinking about making love to it or something. That’s what staring is.” Jared made a vague gesture towards the floor. He had an odd habit of drawing out words, something that completely opposed the way Evan couldn’t seem to draw out anything in his sentence, which is why it would all just run together. Evan just nodded and turned around, looking for something, which was actually nothing. He held onto the straps of his backpack. 

“Yeah I..” He took a deep breath. “Guess that I was doing that.” He just wanted to get out of the situation. He didn’t want to talk to Jared. Then again, who else would he talk to? At least Jared told him the truth about things. 

“You were. Anyways, dude, last night I met this suuuper hot girl at a gay bar, right, and we totally hit it off,” He bragged, with a smirk that wrote ‘lies’ all over his face. 

“Why were you at a gay bar?” Evan looked back at Jared. 

“Well-my psych class friends dragged me there,”

“I thought you didn’t have friends in psych class?” Evan didn’t really mean for that to come off so much like a question, really, he meant to sound like he was stating something, which was what Jared usually sounded like. He wanted to be as blunt as Jared was, for once. But the way his voice naturally turned up didn’t let that happen.

“Oh-well-I don’t. But they brought me anyways.” He shrugged. 

Evan got the sense that Jared had dragged himself to a gay bar alone, and that no girls were there. 

The bell rang for their next class. Jared swore to himself.

“Shit, I’m late again, Mr. M is gonna shoot me-” And then Jared was off, running to his class that he should have been in thirty seconds earlier. 

“Bye.” Evan waved, dragging his feet to lunch.


	2. Being Alone

It all happened far too quickly for Evan to actually process it all. The entire day, really, went too quickly. From the middle of the day, when that kid had shoved him down, to later in the day when he was printing out his letter. When that kid had tried to apologize. He had signed Evans cast and then read the letter. Screamed at him, asked about Evans pills, and took them. No. Evan let him take them. So for the rest of the day, he wasn’t paying attention. Couldn’t pay attention. Staring at his homework and the text books he had while sitting in the middle of his bed listening to Jared just talk really wasn’t making anything better, either. He still didn’t remember what any of his teachers had said. Maybe small snippets. Not really. He didn’t remember shit. Nothing came to mind, no page numbers, no concepts, nothing. 

He had gotten so good at not having days like this and then suddenly some random kid pushes him over and steals his note and he can’t focus on anything. 

This was pathetic. 

That kid-Connor, Connor was that kid. He had signed Evans cast in giant letters, proclaiming that they can act like they have friends-could do anything with that note. Anything. He could ruin Evans whole life, his little bit of a reputation, which really wasn’t anything. Evans reputation was not having one, and being just. An average, lonely kid. He could very quickly become the lonely kid who writes letters to himself about girls who haven’t ever looked at him, the kid who sounds like he’s fucking suicidal, makes sense, yeah. That would be wonderful. Just the best for his last year of highschool. 

Evan had closed his laptop suddenly when his mom had walked in, abruptly ending the call with Jared. 

He didn’t care to open the laptop again to apologize to Jared for his disappearance after his mom left. He’d just apologize a few more times the next day. Jared probably didn’t care anyways-but what if he did?-He probably didn’t-he definitely did. 

Being reasonable, though, and thinking about Jared, the guy probably wanted Evan to just shut up anyways. He’d probably be told that to his face tomorrow, so what does it matter?

Now he could be alone. Which was nice. Evan never gave himself a second of alone time. Actually, he did but he was usually worrying about everything during those seconds, or minutes, or hours, or anything, ever. Milliseconds, maybe. 

Now he was just worrying about Connor again. The chorus of ‘shut up’ that was always on loop in his head, just sometimes a lower volume than other times, was now at full blast. Filling his ears and making him lay back and take it. At least it was something different than ‘what’s he gonna do, who’s he gonna tell, what’s he gonna do, is he gonna show Zoe, where will it be, does he even have other people to show it to, what’s he gonna do, why was he so weird, he was trying to be nice, he apologized, i fucked it up, what’s he gonna do. Why did he take my pills?’ So having the demands for everything to be quiet overpowering that was a sweet relief. 

A shaky breath that he had been holding in let itself out. He turned on his side. 

He didn’t even like Zoe anymore, for fucks sake. 

But she might see. She might know how he thought. What he thought, what he used to think? Who knows. 

His hands were shaking, and his arms almost gave out under him when he pushed himself up, sat on the edge of his bed, looking down, staring at the floor again. His eyes delicately darted around the room. Everything felt surreal again. Like it didn’t matter. It never mattered. He really could just disappear, and maybe the world would disappear with him. Or maybe he’s not that important. 

That would be okay. He didn’t want to be too important. 

Evan opened his laptop and it immediately went to skype, and far too many messages from a confused and frustrated Jared. He was still typing, more messages popping up one after another, in short bursts. They were just about someone in one of his classes, though. There was only one message about Evan hanging up on him. 

And there was one about knowing Connors skype contact. 

_Jared:  
anyways dude ive got some mad cool shit to do so i’ll talk later_

_Evan:  
Wait no what did you say about knowing Connors contact?_

_Jared:  
oh. yeah it’s just XxsuicidenotesxX. can you get more edgy??????!!!!!!!!_

_Evan:  
Wow. Yeah. I’ll add him._

Evan hesitated, wondering if this was a good idea. He was opening himself up for Connor to attack him, to lash out and get violent. He had already done that once, shoving Evan into the floor, practically running away. Leaving Evan with a sore left arm. Luckily, that’s not the arm he landed on, but it still hurt from the way he had to push himself up. Then, later, Connor had gotten violent with the way he spoke. Made Evan pull inward, try to hide. 

This was a bad idea. 

He still did it. 

After only a few minutes he got a message on skype. The notification popped up at the bottom of his screen and he immediately went to it, heart racing, because he suddenly wanted to take back time and not do that. 

So much for being alone. 

_Connor Murphy:  
what the fuck? _

__

_Evan:  
Sorry, my friend Jared gave me your contact and I couldn’t help myself. I just. Wanted to apologize for earlier. You shouldn’t have found that letter, that was a total mistake, I was just printing it out for my therapist since he makes me write these letters every day. It never should have gotten to you, and I didn’t even realize that you were in the library with me._

__

…

__

_Also, why did you take my pills?_

__


	3. Letting It All Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically all just Connor and Evan talking on Skype.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super super super super a lot of talk abt suicide

There was a pause, on Evans end. Like Connors’ fingers were hovering above his keyboard, not knowing how to answer the question. Evan caught his bottom lip between his teeth, biting off skin nervously. Just small bits in different places. He could feel the built up scar tissue in his mouth, which he also incessantly bit at. A nervous habit that he had for years, probably since he was old enough to feel nervous. It was one of those things that he’d never get rid of. 

A small notification at the bottom of his messages with Connor told him that Connor was actually typing, now. He had stopped thinking about what to write.

_Connor Murphy:  
why do you care?_

That didn’t take much thinking.  
It was hostile, obviously. Hard to respond to. Evan clicked his short, bitten at, barely there nails against the laptops keys. 

_Evan:  
Because they’re mine. _

_Connor Murphy:  
not anymore._

He had a point, Evan had to admit. He did willingly give them up to Connor. Why? He didn’t know what else to do. He was distracted, and didn’t like saying no to people. Connor intimidated him. Scared him is a better way of saying it. 

_Evan:_  
That’s true.   
But why would you even want them?  
They’re pills for anxiety.   
What would you even use those for? 

A brief thought entered Evans mind. It flashed, it went away, and then he took a step back and really examined it. Connor seemed volatile. One moment he was signing Evans cast, apologizing even, another he was screaming ‘fuck you’ and running out of the room, looking like he was restraining himself from punching Evan. He was wearing all black, the way his eyes were sunken in just looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks. So what was Connor thinking when he took a pill bottle that was basically full?

 

_Connor Murphy:  
whatever the fuck i want_

Connor was going to try to kill himself.

_Evan:_  
Wait are you gonna like??  
Take them?? 

_Connor Murphy:  
caught red handed. how did you know? was it the anger issues? the terrifying school shooter chic? the whole lonely emo depressed thing? _

_Evan:  
No actually it was the clothes_

_Connor Murphy:  
lonely depressed emo thing, excuse you. _

_Evan:_  
Sure, sorry, anyways   
Why? 

_Connor Murphy:_  
because why the fuck not  
who would even care??  
why do you care??  
sorry but ive gotta go kill myself, excuse me while i do that. real nice chat, though. dont look forward to the next one. since ill be dead. 

_Evan:  
Well I’ll care if you die_

_Connor Murphy:  
i literally shoved you after you didnt do shit. I think youll get over me pretty quick, kiddo. _

_Evan:  
What about your parents?? Wont they care?? You come from a nice family. _

_Connor Murphy:  
they couldnt give less of a shit if i disappeared. _

_Evan:  
I’m sure that’s not true_

_Connor Murphy:  
what do you know_

_Evan:  
I know that you can get better and you can get help and that nobody has to kill themselves. You have a life to look forward to._

_Connor Murphy:  
i dont have anything to look forward to. I have some shitty part time job in a shitty house. Thats it. _

_Evan:  
I know how you feel_

_Connor Murphy:  
i call bullshit_

_Evan:_  
No I do I do I know how it feels to be alone completely and to not have anything to look forward to.  
Read the letter I wrote to myself it says it right there  
No one would care if I disappeared 

Another pause.   
It was definitely one where Connor was thinking again, trying to figure out what to say to that. Evan was right. It did say it, right there in his own letter to himself, which Connor had taken. 

Would anyone even notice if he just disappeared. 

Evan tore more skin away from his lip, hissed quietly under his breath, sucked on the bite that was just deep enough to make him bleed. He didn’t want to get up to get anything to clean it up. He just wanted to see what Connor had to say, he just wanted to see if Connor would live. 

_Connor Murphy:_  
youre right  
you dont really have any friends either  
i see you talking to that kid   
but hes a dick  
so i dont think you like him that much. You dont even look like you like him. you dont even try.  
you have parents though right  
they get you meds  
they care. 

It was Evans turn to be left speechless. Without a way to respond that sounded right.  
Good thing it was easier to think about things when you’re typing than when you’re talking.

_Evan:_  
My mom just wants to shove pills down my throat to get me to stop shaking.   
She cares, but she just wants me to stop being a burden  
Im just a burden. 

_Connor Murphy:  
me too._

_Evan:  
I don’t think so._

Evan waited patiently. Connor was typing for a while. Something longer, deeper, probably.

_Connor Murphy:_  
then how the everloving shit are you a burden. youre the nicest person ive ever met, and you actually dont sound totally fucking fake like all of the rest of the nice people i meet. how am i not a burden, but you are? sounds pretty damn self centered. maybe, just think about this, you just tell people that so they tell you shit that you want to hear. maybe you call yourself shitty things like a burden and a failure and an asshole because you want to hear people compliment you. reassure you.   
because i know for fucking sure thats what i do when im lonely and want people to say im a good person.  
not like it ever works. 

_Evan:  
I’m sure you’re a wonderful person. _

_Connor Murphy:  
see, look at that, you just fell right into my attention seeking trap._

_Evan:  
Sorry. _

_Connor Murphy:_  
whatever. just trying to prove a point. anyways.   
i’ll give you your pills tomorrow, since you probably need them back 

_Evan:_  
Wait you’re not gonna like  
??? 

_Connor Murphy:  
well you made me think about it and now im just fuckin scared out of my mind because overdosing sucks._

Unlikely, Evan knew. He couldn’t have just talked someone out of suicide. He was bad at that. But it happened, and Connor was admitting that he wasn’t going to die. Why? Evan had no idea. Connor had seemed pretty set on it, but who knows. Sometimes things don’t make sense. 

_Connor Murphy:_  
it was a spur of the moment decision anyways.  
later. 

Connors online status went to offline. 

Evan closed his laptop. 

It was hard to believe that it was that easy. It shouldn’t have been that easy. Maybe Connor just wasn’t going to in the first place? Looking for a reason to not do it?

It didn’t make sense, because Evan knew that he wouldn’t listen to some random kid who messaged him, even after he’d attacked the kid. He’d never do that, and he wouldn’t listen to them if he were about to commit suicide. 

It couldn’t be that easy to just get someone to not kill themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I havent had lavender proofread this but i did reread it myself like 50 times so.   
> anyways lmao it kind of sucks Whoops


	4. Finding Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared Kleinman Angst who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more suicide stuff, also some implied abuse.

It was a feat to completely forget about talking someone out of suicide the morning after you’ve done so, but somehow Evan did it. Briefly. He didn’t get much of a chance to forget, since he was getting spammed to hell and back when he opened up his laptop just to make sure Jared wasn’t dying or anything. 

This time, though, Jared wasn’t the one dying. All of his messages were from one person. All, glorious, 274 of them. 275, now. 

Connor Murphy.

Evan couldn’t begin to explain the sort of confusion he felt deep inside of his soul as he scrolled through the literal hundreds of messages, most of them being short half-sentences that were finished by the next message, the rest being long and deep and more introspective than Evan would ever let himself get. 

A lot of them were also deleted, though. They just showed a blank message that said it had been removed. Connor had said a lot that he didn’t want Evan, or possibly anyone, to hear. 

_Connor Murphy:  
Most of the meds are gone_

Evan murmured a small ‘oh shit’ under his breath, 

_Connor Murphy:  
I just really wanted you to shut up last night._

That was never a surprise when Evan heard it. 

_Connor Murphy:  
I fucked up and shit happened and ill be at school at some point whatever fuck this fuck you_

And the torrent of messages stopped. Evan had to scroll up some to get to messages that hadn’t been deleted after they’d been sent, but it did explain more. 

Connor had gone through with it anyways, after Evan had gone to sleep, and apologized (in a very apathetic manner, really. Did Connor ever apologize with any meaning behind it? Probably not, that was a skill only known to a few great people. Evan was not a great people.) He had flipped out beforehand, saying something about not really caring about what Evan thought or said or how much he allegedly cared about Connor. His messages went more frantic as he kept going, leading into a singular ‘fuck’ and a quick ‘my mother found me’ and then nothing for a few hours. That’s when this mornings’ spam started up, which was mostly removed messages, the odd curse word, and some shitty mildly concerning jokes about Connors mental health. 

Evan didn’t know what to say, or do. He was confused and worried and a little bit sick from all of this. It was too much stress. 

_Evan:_  
It’s okay.  
I’ll see you later. 

He almost cringed at how shitty that was. He couldn’t even say something meaningful?  
Evan slipped off of his bed and to his dresser, opening it and getting a shirt, some pants, underwear, whatever. He turned away to change out of what he had slept in previously, (which happened to be what he had worn all day. He was too tired to get up and put effort into changing.) but turned back for socks. He always forgot to get socks until the last minute. That was going to change. 

The short sleeve of his shirt got caught on his cast and he sighed, still basically half asleep, already done with the day. Or the week. Or everything, who knows. He pulled his shirt off and just discarded it in the middle of his bed. He’d deal with it later, it wasn’t a huge deal until he did that every day and didn’t take care of it. 

He didn’t want to shower. He was fine, anyways, deodorant would be fine for a day. 

His mom wasn’t home. She was probably working early, so that was fine. He rushed out of his house and locked the door on a second thought, having to turn back around to do so and then going back to running to his bus stop. 

The day went as it always did. Classes, talking to Jared briefly, lunch, more classes, go home, do nothing. Talk to Jared, or Alana. Do homework. Watch something. The thing that made today different though was that not only was he watching videos, and talking to Jared, but also anxiously checking if Connor had messaged him. He was waiting for the other, thinking maybe it would be too forward if he made contact first. No message came from him, though. Only Jared. Of course Jared wanted to talk.

_Jared:_  
hey man can u call rn or  
Evan:  
No I’m free what’s up??  
Jared:  
nothin. got some shit on my mind. im callin 

The jingle for a skype call coming in sounded on Evans computer and Evan quickly put in his headphones and answered the call, just scrolling through tumblr. Yeah, tumblr. It was entertaining to him, and all he really had to do at the moment. Other than homework, but that could wait.

“What’s up?” Evan asked again, not turning his camera on and just leaning back comfortably. He was only half paying attention when Jared started to talk, turning his camera on. 

“I’m fucking tired,” Jared mumbled, obviously talking into the mic intentionally so he didn’t have to be loud. His voice seemed sore. “My mom-jesus christ-decided that I suddenly have to take care of myself. Sprung it on me like I have a full time job and I’m able to support a family of, like, five people.” He coughed slightly and lowered his mic just for a moment to do so. Evan made a small ‘mhm’ noise to acknowledge that he had heard his friend. “Which would all be good and fucking dandy, but I have a shitty ass parttime job that doesn’t even pay me enough for me to rent some pitiful looking two room apartment with the ceiling falling in. She’s insisting that I move out soon, though. Pay for my own shit. Says that almost being out of highschool and being ready to be independent. It’s not like I don’t agree, though, I do-” “Mhm,” “But I wish that I could tell her that I actually can’t support myself like that yet and she’d understand. She just keeps going on about ‘when I was your age’ blah blah bullshit.” 

Jared wasn’t paying attention to his computer screen. He was looking down, writing something maybe, and pausing in his talking occasionally to focus on the second task he was trying to handle. “Anyways, she told me to get over the fact that I can’t support myself and to stop wasting my money. Funny thing, though, I don’t waste my money. I get food and I get shit I need for school and I use it for other stuff that I do need. It-uh-took a turn when I tried to explain that and she ended up yelling at me again. ‘You need to take responsibility for your actions, not make excuses!!’” He mocked his mother in a high pitched tone, “Yeah, alright. Excuses. I’d call that one hell of an excuse. The truth. God, what a dick that Jared Kleinman is. Making excuses, like the truth. That’s the worst excuse of them all, right there.” 

Evan looked up at Jareds cam in the corner of his screen. Jared had been sniffling and pausing between talking, sure. His glasses were off. His eyes red. Was he crying before? “So what did you do?” Evan murmured the question. 

“I yelled back. Tried to repeat what I had said earlier and she fucking-” Jared took in a breath and let it out sharply through his nose. “She wouldn’t fucking listen, Evan, just kept denying it. I swear, the whole damn neighborhood could probably hear us.” He looked up again and clicked a pen. A cat came up behind him on his chair and he clicked his tongue quietly at it, cooing its name. It was black and white, with fur that was fine and long, the tail swaying beautifully around and resting on Jareds shoulder. Jared brushed his hand through the cats fur. 

“Maybe you should bring it up to her more calmly.” Evan suggested, honestly sounding extremely apathetic. That’s what he usually sounded like while talking to Jared, though. 

“No, Evan. She doesn’t listen. She hit me because I tried to tell her why I know that I am trying my damn hardest to keep myself on my own two feet and not have to lean on her and dad so much.” Jared put his glasses back on and just glared down at his own hands. She hit him? She hit him. That would explain a lot. He was red, he was crying, he was ranting about this. This had happened before, not often by any means, maybe once every six months whenever they have their ‘six month annual argument about something pointless’, as Jared puts it. Every time Jared would call Evan and start talking, complaining, telling the story and eventually it would come out that she had hit him out of so much frustration. 

“She hit you again?” Evan turned on his camera, now, looking concerned. He also sounded concerned. “Jared, don’t you think you should tell someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate, out before Evan could even finish his whole question. “I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. I’m not going to tell on my mom for occasionally slapping me in the face. I know I’m a prick sometimes. I know that, and I deserve that shit sometimes,” He paused. “Evan. I’ve done some soul searching and, yeah, I really am the kind of person that just needs to be slapped sometimes.” Jared shrugged and wiped his eyes, sniffling a little. “Whatever. Thanks for listening. I’ll go now, I know you’ve got so much important stuff to do like mope about Connor Murphy doing whatever the fuck he’s doing.”

Evan contemplated telling Jared. Telling him that Connor had tried to kill himself with Evans pills, that Connors parents were probably talking their way out of having him in a mental hospital or whatever Connor said. They were just trying to get him home so they could have a normal life again. That’s what Connor was saying about it, and why should Evan have any reason to doubt that? But Jared didn’t need to hear that right now. He was already dealing with his own shit, and even if he would never let onto it, he’d let Connors shit weigh him down, too.

“Alright. Later.”

“Bye.” 

The call hung up. Evan left the window for Skype and went back to doing nothing, yet something, on the internet. 

No message ever came from Connor, and it left Evan wondering what had happened as he lay in bed, incapable of sleeping for one reason or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jared is going to get the same sweet, sweet amount of character development and Deep Personality as connor and evan  
> also im sorry this is short fjjdjghjsdsj


	5. Talking To Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dance of Jared Kleinmans Swagger

_Evan:_  
By the way…  
That guy.   
Connor.  
Tried to commit suicide. 

\----

Jareds hands ran over his face, as if he was trying to wipe off all of the negative feelings that were making themselves clear in the way he stared blankly, yet with all too much on his mind, at his desk. He still looked like he had been crying, sounded like it too. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, face not quite cooled down from the yelling yet either. He was still sniffling and his voice was slightly rough from yelling. He rocked in his seat. His fingers tapped over the edge of his laptop, looking at the screen which had turned black from his lack of using it for a few minutes. 

At least he had gotten out his feelings to someone, instead of just pulling them all inward and keeping them in and never talking about them, ever, like he used to. There were still things that no one on the planet except for himself knew, and it would stay that way. He hoped. He didn’t trust anyone with the kind of things he kept inside, anyways. As much as people claim they’re such amazing secret keepers, it’s never true, is it? People will fuck you over and all of your secrets will somehow end up with another person or two. And then they’ll tell people, and those people will tell other people, and it always goes like that. Everytime. Jared knew that for a fact. Whenever he trusted someone and really thought they wouldn’t say shit they go and say it. 

“Evan doesn’t talk to anyone, anyways.” Jared mumbled to himself, turning in his chair and pulling his bag closer. He got out a few different things, just school shit, books and papers and his binder. “He’d never tell anyone significant that could tell others..if he’d say anything.” He dropped them down onto his desk carelessly, but flinched when they made a much louder noise than he had anticipated. “If he did I’d fucking wreck him. Not, like, literally, but something like the kind of disappointed sigh that I give anyone ever constantly-do I even do that? Fuck this-or you know, fuck fuck if he did tell someone I’d be screwed.” He kept pausing while talking to correct himself, or just start a new train of thought, and was tapping a pen on his desk. Clicking it and nodding along with it just to do something with his hands. What was he doing? He doesn’t remember. Something with writing something and something. 

Who gives a shit. He’s tired, he’s been tired, he was always tired. “Fucking...it’s so stupid, jesus christ, why am I always so..” He was cutting in and out of his thoughts with things to say out loud. He sat back. His mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once, blanking on things that were important and going back to yelling and yelling and what he should have said to avoid getting hit and _you deserved it_ and yelling and the usual thoughts that come along with these kind of days. He was switching back and forth from _her fault_ to _my fault_ and getting even more aggravated with himself as he did, his thoughts getting louder and piling on top of one another until it was just _his fault, your fault, my fault, idiot, can’t believe you, honestly, and you can’t even apologize for being a dick, no wonder everyone hates you, for fucks sake you are pathetic._

He hit his desk with his fist. Just to get it to fucking stop because he had things to focus on because his grades were almost pathetic and he had no chance of getting anywhere in life with them being what they are. “Maybe if you just stopped getting so fucking caught up in your life to pay attention to the shit that will get you places and keep you alive you wouldn’t be so emotional all the time-” He snapped at himself in a barely audible whisper, going to that second perspective that he seemed to like to use whenever he spoke to himself. Mainly, when he was angry at himself. Or angry at anything. 

“Stop fucking talking to yourself.” He bit back, just mumbling under his breath as he opened his binder to see what he had to do. “It’s more annoying than when you actually talk to other people. Do they even listen? They don’t listen. They don’t care. Think about it, man, why would they ever care about your shit? You’re kind of a dick to them.” He flipped over his pen to start writing. What? He had no idea. Just something. Maybe actually getting his thoughts and feelings out on paper would help. No. That would be tangible. People could find that, he could find that, he could make that real. If he wrote it down it would be. It would be real. 

Jared put the paper that he had pulled out of his binder away, and his pen down. He wasn’t going to make this an experience that anyone could look at. This would be something that he should wonder if it was imaginary later on. No evidence that he ever felt so powerless. 

So, Jared sat. He sat in his office chair, turning back and forth, thinking, wondering, not knowing what to do, tapping his heel on the floor anxiously, looking up at the ceiling, down at the floor. He was holding back tears, embarrassed for himself, looking at himself from the perspective of an outsider. An outsider who wasn’t forgiving. Who saw emotion as weak. It was tiring to have to examine himself like this. Like he was circling himself like a god damn vulture. Eventually, he got to leaning over his desk and turning his music all the way up while he attempted everything that he had to do for school. He broke down halfway through and ended up ripping a piece of paper with how hard he was pressing down the pencil, shaking his head, ripping it again, intentionally, and throwing the pencil down. He rested his head against the desk. 

 

At some point, he stood up and pushed his chair in, leaving half finished homework from every class on his desk and laying down in bed. It was just a bad day. Just a bad day, and tomorrow it would be better. Tomorrow he could act like nothing happened. No one would know that he had cried for three hours, taking small breaks in between, convincing himself that it was nothing. It wouldn’t be at all obvious that he had yelled at himself internally for the time he was awake, still. And no one would know how pointlessly frustrated he’d gotten over something as small as not being able to write a god damn paragraph. He’d be fine tomorrow. He always recovered. Somewhat, at least. 

\----

Tomorrow came. Jared woke up in his jeans, and slept in until he was getting ready while he knew first period had already started. It was fine. Happened often. He walked to the school and told them to just call his mom, apathetically walking into his first period with his practiced sway and bounce that couldn’t be matched by a soul on the planet. It was his own, and recognized as so by everyone else. The token Jared Kleinman swagger. 

 

When Evan asked what was up, Jared answered as he usually did. Some drawn out exaggeration to avoid the truth of the matter. He would act like he didn’t notice that Evan had zoned out on something in the first second and a half of him talking, and he’d keep going, and then he’d ask Evan how he was. That’s what happened. Evan would answer with some lengthy story, which could have been cut down to maybe two, three, sentences and Jared would listen. He would listen, unlike Evan ever did to him, and make fun of Evan. He’d run to class. That’s how today went, too. Evan, though, seemed even more distracted than usual. While he might casually look around if one or two people were being particularly loud today he was frantic. He glanced behind him, around him, behind Jared, looking for something. Or someone to walk down the hallway, and Jared knew who it was. He didn’t ask why Evan seemed so off, he knew the answer, he didn’t want to hear a lie. ‘No reason’. That’ what Evan would say. 

So when Jared walked away from Evan and passed Connor Murphy in the hallway on his way to class, he looked over the guy with the dirtiest look you could give a motherfucker. How was even already back? Wouldn’t his parents want to coddle him for a while before sending him back into the abyss of feeling eternally fucking lonely unless you were part of the football team or some hot girl who was on the cheer team? Explains why he’d want to kill himself. 

So the day goes, and so the day went. And when it was behind Jared he wanted to rewind. He wanted to restart the day, like it was a video game, redo the level. It felt surreal. It didn’t feel right. He felt like if he turned around while walking home he’d just see all of the events of the day playing out before him in some sort of void. Like he could just step back into the situations. Ask Evan if he was really okay, what he was looking for, why he was looking for Connor. Tell his teachers ‘fuck you for assigning so much bullshit I’ll never use’. Tell Connor he’s a selfish piece of shit, he wishes that he’d fucking succeeded-he pushed that thought back immediately. He doesn’t wish that. Not on anyone. That was a stupid thought, he had no idea why it came to mind. 

But it did. 

And Jared hung his head, because somewhere deep down that’s true to him. Somewhere he might actually wish that that Connor dude had died. It was a terrible thing to think. Horrible. 

He listened to his feet hit the ground as he walked home. Bounced up the steps of his house, footsteps softening so his mom wouldn’t find him obnoxious. So she would leave him alone when he went to sit in his room and do whatever work he could find the willpower to do, maybe talk to Evan, or Alana, or anyone really. He would find something to do. It still all felt surreal, though. Like he was dreaming. The day flew past him way too fast. 

He loved the feeling, though. It meant that he didn’t have to stress about it too much. Like he normally would be, just wondering and pondering all of the things he did wrong and how he did them wrong and how he could fix them, and how he would never be able to turn back time like he wanted to to fix them. 

When he fell asleep in all of his clothes for the second night in a row, this time he didn’t even bother to turn the light off before he turned over and closed his eyes. 

At some point, he woke up to his door opening and the light in front of his closed eyelids went off. A little click. And his door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MMmmmMM only one chpt today!! Yaayyy. but this time from jareds perspective-ish of all this. fun.


	6. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Jared woah

A week went by quickly, and things went back to normal even quicker for everyone. Jared was making shitty jokes and snide comments about everything again, Connor was moping in the corner and reading, and Evan was caught in the middle of everything in his mind. Evan was also, now, regularly texting or messaging Connor over skype. Waving to him or flashing him an awkward smile that didn’t move past the lower part of his face when he passed the other in the halls. It was nice for both of them, to have someone to talk to that didn’t make fun of them or ignore them or interrupt them or anything. Sure, Connor bitched and moaned about it. Evan was too ‘innocent’ for him. Too small and blind to the world. Connor was too inappropriate, made jokes out of such serious things, acted like everything was normal in the world when it wasn’t. They were polar opposites in that way. The way they were both lonely tied them together with a thread, though. Like they were dolls, so they could help each others splitting seams, let the other hold some of their stuffing that might have been getting to be too much.

So far it was working, too. 

Evan had, a couple times, dumped out his feelings onto Connors’ shoulders and immediately apologized afterwards. Connor gave him a brief ‘it’s fine’ and then started talking about his own experience. It was good, Connor was doing it too. He did it once, just talking about something personal. He regret it afterwards, but that was okay. Evan felt like he was genuinely getting to know a whole new person from the boy who had tried to overdose on some kids spare anxiety meds. 

It didn’t take long for them to be talking to each other everyday. It happened immediately, actually. Evan would just check in on Connor after school, later in the night. Within that week Connor had started to reply with things other than ‘fine’ or ‘decent’ or ‘I’m alive, I guess’. Around day three he actually said ‘My mom was being a bitch’ and on day six of Evan checking in he told a whole long story about not giving a shit about sports and how he didn’t understand why his dad (Larry?) had always been so insistent on Connor playing them and why they had to watch baseball. 

Evan kind of liked baseball. 

They both seemed better, though, at the least. Evan could more comfortably talk to Jared, actually. He’d been building a sort of friendship with Connor for two weeks, now, and ever since Connor had become sort of a person that he could go to just to talk to about shit happening, and about how the world was ending, Evan had been less tense around Jared. His theory was that talking to Jared about personal things always ended in Jared poking fun at him in some way. Pointing something out that was painfully obvious, giving advice that would never work, things like that. Telling Evan to just suck it up. Connor didn’t do that. He said ‘shit man, that fucking sucks.’ and then would talk about something else. 

It was a much better way of reassuring Evan than Jareds way of putting him down. Now that Evan thinks about it, he realizes that something did always bother him about Jared, and about how he was when they interacted. He could just never put his finger on it. That was it, though. Jared put him down and invalidated Evan about things that bothered him until Evan basically stopped talking about that thing, would bottle it up for two weeks, and then tell his therapist. Or, sometimes, if Jared had gotten to him enough he wouldn’t even talk about it to anyone, afraid that they’d react the same way. He got like that with Connor, just a few times. Usually when Connor was distracted, and Evan would apologize a hundred times before Connor would tell him it was fine. 

Jared also noticed this change. He took note of how Evan hardly mentioned his home life, or his head, or anxiety. He wasn’t blind, he could tell when things with his best friend of, what, 11 years suddenly stopped talking about how he felt like he was cured from his issues overnight. That just didn’t happen.

Jared leaned his back on the door of the school, opening it and waiting for Evan who was dragging his feet to walk out. Connor wasn’t with them, for once. He never did anything after school. Evan and Jared, on the other hand, were helping a teacher. 

“So, you’re coming over to my house, right?” Jared asked, walking out behind Evan and letting the door swing shut with a loud clang. Evan seemed to flinch slightly. 

“Yeah. I am. I’ll text my mom when we get there or whatever,” Evan said, mostly to himself, walking to Jared’s car. It was one of a few left. Not too many. All teachers, probably, still working on things for the next day. 

“Alright..” Jared got his keys and unlocked the car, jogging towards it and opening the driver’s side door. He waited for Evan to be getting into the passenger's side so he could slip in. “You know, you haven’t been talking to me as much. Like. About yourself,” Jared noted. He sat back in the car. “Which is kind of weird because that’s all you used to talk about.”

Evan turned his head to peer at Jared. His eyes were tired, and he shrugged. “Didn’t even notice.” He let out a slight chuckle. “I didn’t think you would either. Or care, for that matter.” 

“Why wouldn’t I care? You’re my best friend,” Jared hummed. He turned on the car and messed with his seatbelt. 

“Well, you kind of...you.” Evan took a moment to form his thought completely in his head. He hadn’t before he started talking, and needed to organize how he was thinking or he’d sound like an idiot and would probably start contradicting himself. “You constantly...make fun of me, I guess. When I talk about something that bothers me. You always seem..bothered by it. Sometimes you flat out ridicule it so I just thought that I’d stop because you act like you just don’t even care and--”

“I do care! That’s just me joking, I never mean it seriously. Jesus christ Evan,” He laughed at the obvious ridiculousness of the accusation that he _didn’t care_.

“No, no! See-see that’s exactly what I mean! You brush off my feelings like they’re just a joke, and it’s not a joke, and- and it makes me feel like shit!” Evan sat up more and was nervously fidgeting with his phone, pressing buttons, turning it on and off. He could tell that he was moving more into himself, or away from Jared. Both. 

“Well I don’t-what the fuck else am I supposed to do?” Jared leaned forward more, if anything he went towards Evan. The tone had suddenly changed. It had gone from that light hearted laughter that made Evan so apparently anxious about whether or not Jared actually cared to a heavier, angrier, sort of tense in the car. Jared was the main reason. Red spread across his face, anger, embarrassment, and the realization that he had been hurting his friend dawning on him. “It’s better than how you just flat out fucking ignore me, at least. You don’t even try to look like you’re paying attention!” He snapped, pressing his fingernails into his palm. “Great friend there, Hansen, not even listening when I have an issue maybe, you know, once every few months, but OHH when it comes time for your daily bitch session I just have to sit through it and not crack jokes. Not deal with the stress you just casually shove onto me, and all the blame you put on me all of the time for your problems. You talk to me about how your fucking therapist thinks I’m a terrible person because of the way you’ve painted me in his head. You don’t tell your friends that you shit talk about them in therapy, Evan,” The way he snarled out the other’s name was downright threatening. His eyes were narrowed and Evan seemed to just want to melt into the door, or the seat. He didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t want to be thought about, yet here he was, being the topic of Jareds frustration. “That’s just low.” 

“It’s not all bad,” Evan gasped out, eyes downcast, refusing to meet Jared’s sharp glare. The tone change immediately wracked through his body and made him panic. “I-I talk about how..how you really are helpful sometimes. How you do ca-are.” His voice broke and he instantly jumped on himself for it mentally. Messing with his shirt, pinching it and trying to find any loose threads to tug out and distract himself with. He had ruined quite a few shirts with this habit. He had a feeling he would be ruining another one quite soon. 

“So what? I’m still the dickwad that made your anxiety sky rocket in sixth grade! The kid who made you even more insecure. The kid who made jokes about you-or-was it with you? Maybe I’m really just the kid who actually fucking stuck by you because you were too fucking small to stand up for yourself! Ever think about that? Maybe I just genuinely like you and want to keep fucking talking to you! Maybe I actually care and I want you to stay safe, because you can’t keep yourself safe! But, by all means, if you don’t want me in your life anymore because I’m too much of a degradation for your mental health then you can get out of my car.” He gestured toward the door behind Evan. Evan didn’t budge, just stayed still, his breath getting shorter and faster. “Go on. Or, maybe, you need me? Maybe...you _need me_ so you don’t get to caught up in your own damn head?” Jared was snapping again, a bittersweet smile making itself clear on his face that didn’t at all mean he was happy. His tone was filled to the brim with a pent up anger that he didn’t even realize he had. This was something he had wanted to say for so long, never being able to put words to the feeling and just getting caught up in an odd unnamed frustration for his best _(and only)_ friend. Finally, he had gotten a definition for his frustration. 

Evan stayed silent. He swallowed hard and looked down, gasping for air every few seconds. His back was shaking, and he had leaned down slightly to hide himself. His entire being was just caving in on itself. One of his hands was carding through his hair, holding down his head somewhat, the other was tucked against his stomach, which had started to churn when Jared had started yelling. His back heaved again, and Jared let his eyes wander towards the other boy. He _was_ crying. 

Everything had gotten so tense, and Evan just stayed as he was. Tears were soaking into his shirt, which he had pulled up with his hand to cover his face slightly. He was still struggling to take a deep, full, breath that didn’t end up wavering and making him let out a sob. Tears had mostly halted, at least. His leg was bouncing up and down, heel not even hitting the floor as he bounced against his toes. 

He let out another sob as he tried for the fourth time to take a breath and new tears managed to make their way down his face. He wiped them away.

A long, heavy, while went by before either of them spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” Jared broke the quiet in a whisper, barely above just a breath alone, and put a hand on Evans back. 

Evan shook his head and slowly sat up, shifting just the slightest bit away so Jared would remove his hand. He went to open the car door.

“It’s fine. I should be the one apologizing.” Evans hand held onto the handle. “I shouldn’t have...started that. I’m sorry. It was. I’m sorry for everything I don’t mean to ignore you or anything I’m sorry that I dump everything on you I-I really am-” He opened the door a little, just enough for him to swing his legs out. 

“Do you want a ride home?” Jared got out quickly before Evan could get out of the car entirely. “Or, really, I don’t want you to be alone while having a panic attack, do you want to just..go to my house, still?” Jared sighed at his attempt to be better. He had done this before, of course, but only really over text. Occasionally he would show his side of concern and take Evan home after a more stressful day, but that was usually in a much more lighthearted manner. He would laugh and offer Evan a ride because, ‘you look like a fuckin mess, what did you do, get into another metaphorical fight with the you inside your head?’ or, ‘Jesus christ, man, why are you crying so much?’ or something like that. Now, he was trying to live up to Evans standards and be traditionally nice. 

Evan stopped, just sitting half in and half out of the car. He nodded and turned around again, closing the door. He recognized it, Jared _trying_. He didn’t want to be an asshole while his notoriously asshole-ish friend was actually being an OK dude for once. 

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s go..to your house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a while lmao  
> I've been hella stressed + I wont be able to write much next week because of a trip. I might try to get another chapter to post next week while I dont have anything that ill be writing at that time but iDKKK


End file.
